Belief
by Simone Robinson
Summary: "His strength was back, he stood tall and proud, but the very hope that was his center, wavered. Every time he looked at the glowing globe, he was filled with doubt. How many of those children believed in Santa, or the Tooth Fairy, or even Jack Frost, but not in him?" With his very existence in the balance, Bunny finds help in an unlikely place, just when he thinks all is lost.


**Belief**

* * *

Stress had a way of working its way into one's heart, taking root there and slowly taking over. It happened slowly, inch by inch, piece by peace, until it had pushed everything else out, leaving no room for peace or rest or patience. It left behind only irritability and panic and a need to get things done. It left behind the overwhelming sensation, that things would never _get _done.

Rabbits were known to be flighty, to have a nervous streak that sent them running at the first sign of trouble. It was a survival instinct, but Bunny had always prided himself on keeping that streak locked up tight. In a battle situation, it could give you the edge and save your life, but in the day to day running of the warren, it did nothing but make him look weak, and make things go slower.

Aster's ears twitched in annoyance. Around him lay the scattered remains of his brushes and paints. They spilt onto the grass, into the river, a mess of chaos and a testimony to the turbulence of his mind.

This Easter had to be perfect. No matter what, it _had _to be perfect. The pressure rested heavily on Bunny's shoulders, tension settling into his muscles. He rolled them and clicked his neck absently in an attempt to gain some relief, but to no avail. So much rested on this, more than he was willing to admit to anyone.

Last Easter, destruction had swept his eggs, the tunnels, created a void in the children's hearts where Easter used to be. There had been no Easter, and that had very nearly destroyed him. His strength was back, he stood tall and proud, but the very hope that was his centre, wavered.

Every time he looked at the glowing globe, he was filled with doubt. How many of those flickering lights burnt for him? How many of those children believed in Santa, or the Tooth Fairy, or even Jack Frost, but not in him?

There were enough to keep him going, but Aster new that they didn't believe in him like they used to, not anymore. The bright and burning belief that had filled him to the point of arrogance was gone, and in its place, it had left a dank, deep void devoid of hope, and filled with panic. What if he _couldn't_ make it up this year?

The warren that usually filled him with peace and pride, was now a source of irritation and anxiety. The grass felt tickling and harsh, the brushes that lay scattered served not as a source of inspiration, but as a source of disappointment, a reminder of the work that still remained to be done.

Perishables, he was dealing with perishables, like he so often told North. Only a few days to prepare, and this year, it just didn't seem like enough time.

Bunny was barely aware of his trembling muscles, demanding he rest, demanding he cease his constant work, his constant panic, the tension that had tightened them and hardened them to painful knots.

Fogginess clouded his mind, and at the last second, Bunny realized he was overcome with exhaustion. He cursed himself, a fresh wave of panic niggling at his spirit, but it was soon dulled by wave after wave of sleep, forced on him by a body too drained to continue.

Aster suddenly felt lighter than he should have been, as if he was on North's death trap of a sleigh or something similar. He felt just as sick too, but oddly enough, the panic in his mind was starting to grow almost foggy. His back ached, as if he'd been carrying a heavy load for days and days on end without stopping to put it down. But that was ridiculous, he'd done nothing but work with eggs and they weren't...weren't heavy...

The last thing Bunny remembered, was feeling weightless as his heavy body was laid down into the softness of the grass and sweet smelling clovers. He didn't even have time to wonder how his landing had come to be so smooth and soft, before he shivered softly, and fell into a deep sleep.

* * *

The first few moments of waking were peaceful, filled with a soft comfort and the smell of spring. His ears had tumbled over his eyes and he was curled up in one of the grottos of the warren. At first, there was nothing but stillness and peace.

Stillness.

The sound of eggs was missing. The sound of tumbling footsteps and preparations for Easter had grown silent. Easter, oh _shit_!

Bunny was up in an instant, springing to his feet and whirling around. Frantic eyes, dancing like a forest ablaze with panic, searched for a sign of something, _anything_. There had to be something, _there had to be_. What _day _was it? _Where_ were the eggs?

Disorientated, but with all the speed and skill of a Pooka, Aster raced around the warren, the loud sound of his feet devastating in the quiet. Where were they? Where _were _they? _Where were they?!_

It wasn't often Bunny felt fear, even when panic stirred, but now it bubbled in his heart and he shoved it down fiercely, _what if's_ racing in his head and threatening to overwhelm him.

What if Pitch had arrived? What if the Guardians were in trouble? What if there was no Easter again? Again. He wouldn't be able to survive it a second time.

How _stupid _was it to fall a-bloody-sleep like he had?

He had to get to the surface, had to see for himself. Body straining with effort, he pushed himself to the tunnels, pushed himself through the twists and turns, seeking the light that would let him surface and see. See the damage. Dread twisted his heart, tearing it apart like a million shreds of paper fluttering to the floor, lacking purpose, full of uncertainty.

He could hear their voices now, the children. The closer he got, the clearer he could hear them, but their tone was impossible to make out with the blood rushing in his ears, the violent thud of his heartbeat.

When he surfaced, it took all his strength not to squeeze his eyes shut in protest of the pain he felt sure he would witness. Sleep fogged his mind, and as it ebbed, the worry and sick-to-his stomach dread only grew.

From his vantage point in the bushes, he could see them. He could see the brightly coloured eggs amongst the green of the grass, he could hear the delighted shouts of the children, he could see the way their eyes lit up at the sight of the eggs as they scrambled away to find more, proclaiming loudly that this had to be the best Easter _ever._

Aster stood stupidly at the entrance of the tunnel, and for the longest moment, he felt nothing but dumbfounded. Then, the void in his heart started to fill with something, with hope and belief. He could feel the warmth radiating from his chest.

The precious _believe_. They believed in him again!

Light sparkled off his eyes, the exhaustion and fear replaced by the very wonder and hope that they as the guardians fought so hard to protect. He didn't know how, or by what miracle this had happened, but it had, and now, his hope had been protected.

His very existence had been saved, his very being and spirit. Thank the _Moon_.

But who'd done it? The eggs didn't finish themselves, didn't get themselves up here in time. Bunny, heart alight with hope again, crouched down in the bushes, where a lone egg remained too well hidden. He picked it up in his paw, and cradled it, taking a tentative step forward.

The patterns on it were not of his design, they were beautiful, the colour of frost on a lake, intricate and beautiful, like snowflakes, and so very, _very_ familiar. But Aster didn't have a chance to take it in. His foot had met something cold, causing a shiver to run through him. Cold? In spring?

Raising his foot, Bunny shivered, the grass beneath his feet covered in a thin layer of ice, melting into a dewy softness and leaving a trail into the bushes, into the sunlight where the children hunted for eggs. Aster's head snapped up, but the sky twinkled blue and the winds were warm. No clouds, no reason for ice.

No reason, except...but no, that couldn't be...

And by the time Aster turned around, there was nothing left but a flash of twinkling blue eyes and the feeling of ice on the breeze, like the laughter of winter of winter on a warm spring day.

Like the laughter of someone without a care in the world, but plenty in their heart.


End file.
